


Maybe, or: A Quiet Morning

by sophiagratia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Sexual Fantasy, solo sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiagratia/pseuds/sophiagratia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What SGC's finest are thinking when they should be thinking about work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe, or: A Quiet Morning

‘Morning, Sam.’ Her everyday smile, her casual shrug into her labcoat.

‘Morning, Janet.’ The bright focus of her eyes, the tilt of her head, absorbed already in work.

They were friendly colleagues, that was all. A wry glance across the infirmary, a quick touch in a laboratory, banter in the corridors. Collegial friendliness, and that was all. Sam Carter, it was universally acknowledged, was a single-minded propeller-head who had unlimited attention for her work – and only for her work. And everyone knew that nothing about other people but the technicalities of their anatomy could absorb the attention of Janet Fraiser.

But maybe, just maybe, Janet thought, SG-1’s hotshot second knew how to let her mind wander. And Sam was beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, the CMO’s thoughts could turn more than medical.

*

She had so many wild notions, but the best, her favorite, were the off-world ones. They’d be off-world – stranded, preferably, off-world; they’d be far, far away and alone in some alien cave somewhere, or a tent in a rainsoaked forest; they’d be across the galaxy, off-world, alone. Just that thought, and she had to try hard not to give herself away.

‘... Janet?’ She blinked and raised her eyes from her desk.

‘Yes, Daniel?’ This with perhaps a severer brow-raise than she intended.

‘I’m sorry – I thought you – ah – gasped. Uh.’ Janet rolled her eyes and held back a smile.

‘I assure you, no.’ She turned back to her work, shifting her hips in her chair. Across the room, eyes masqued by a microscope, Sam Carter smirked.

*

They’d be in the infirmary.

She only had to get that far before her heart picked up or she got that funny little twitch in her knee.

Why should arousal cause a spasm of the MCL? She thought of asking Janet, sidling up to her all sultry and cool, and saying, ‘Doctor, why do you have such a pronounced effect on my medial collateral ligament?’ She didn’t quite restrain a snort.

‘Major Carter? I’m sorry, but is there something amusing here of which I am not aware?’ Consciousness snapped fully back into the briefing room, Sam blinked and shook her head.

‘No, sir. Of course not.’ Her lips twitched. She shifted her weight and flexed her knee. Across the table, shuffling papers, Janet Fraiser raised an eyebrow.

*

They’d be off-world, together and alone. Some cold and lonely place and she’d be skittish but there would be Sam, and Sam would protect her. She’d curl up to Sam for body heat, and Sam’s hand would fall across her hip, or –. She’d turn and there would be Sam with desire in her eyes and they’d be so damned far away from the SGC and the United States Air Force and any other reason to say no. She’d turn in this alien cave, and there would be Sam. And Sam would kiss her.

Janet closed her eyes and splayed her fingers across the cold steel of the empty operating table. That thought could thrill her. It could also be unbearable.

*

They’d be in the infirmary and Janet would be touching her. Crisp, methodical, professional, Janet’s hands, all over her. But then the doctor would tilt her head, just slightly, and the look in her eyes would shift, just so, and her thumb would run in decidedly unprofessional manner across the inside of Sam’s knee.

Sam blinked, raising the visor of her welding helmet. Her physiological response to _that_ was explicable enough.

*

She had other interests, too, of course. When Sam was promoted, it had been enough for days of forgetting entirely about constructing elaborate off-world scenarios.

Sam would push her against a wall and she would say, ‘Yes, _ma’am_ ,’ and that would be that. For days, that was all she needed.

Passing Sam in a corridor, she went so far as to issue a congratulatory hip-check, a teasing smile. ‘So, you gonna order me around now, _Major_?’ She mock-sauntered away before Sam could catch her blushing.

‘I wouldn’t dare!’ Sam’s voice, with laughter in it, followed her down the hall. She punched the air and refused to turn. In her mind, Sam was grinning at her back and Sam’s eyes were falling exactly everywhere they should not be.

*

She would sit carefully on the infirmary bed, for all the world the model patient, her eyes intent on the security camera as Janet’s thumb progressed along her thigh.

She’d ball the sheet in her fists and shift her hips so the camera wouldn’t see but Janet would know that she meant _yes, please, yes_. And Janet would smirk, and she’d bite her lip in that way that drove her crazy, and Janet’s hand would come to rest on the waistband of her trousers and she’d give the barest hint of a nod. _Yes. Please._

She winked at Janet once, a bravura shield against her own blushing nakedness. ‘You know, I think you _like_ playing doctor, Doctor.’

‘I’m not playing, Major. I am entirely in earnest.’ And she was also smiling.

*

But it was always back to that rainsoaked tent on that faraway planet. Or the cave. On the whole, she preferred the cave. Sam would kiss her and Sam’s hands would be warm on her hips, on her ribcage, and Sam would whisper her name and say, _yes_. And her fingers would twist in Sam’s hair and she would tell her at last, at last. She would say _I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long, I love you, Samantha Carter, I love you_ , and Sam too would say those things and press against her and whisper in her ear everything she wanted.

Sam would undress her with captivated eyes. Sam’s hands would travel the whole length of her. And Sam would gasp in pleasure and surprise when she rolled her onto her back and held her down and said, _I want to taste you everywhere, Samantha Carter_.

And she would. She’d kiss and lick and nip, everywhere at least once, and where Sam liked it, again, harder.

It made her shudder sometimes. Desire or despair or both; she sometimes couldn’t tell.

None of that would ever happen. She could daydream, and she could wish, and she could let her breath catch now and then when Sam stood too close to her, but, she forced herself every day to remember, none of that would ever happen.

*

Janet would twitch the curtain to conceal them, and her heart would kick and her knee would twitch and she’d draw a sharp breath because she’d know they didn’t have much time. Janet would bite her lip – _god_ , that drove her crazy – and Janet’s hips would nudge her knees apart and Janet’s hand would rest on her belt buckle and it would be all she could do just to nod and mouth _yes_ , not daring even to whisper.

And Janet would be so close, lips just a breath away from kissing, so close, and she’d have to breathe hard to keep from whimpering. _Is this what you want?_ Janet would whisper, just barely audible, as her fingers found their careful way. And she’d grip the sheets and nod fervently and her hips would cant and her jaw would drop as Janet’s clever fingers moved across her skin, and when Janet’s clever fingers moved inside her she’d press her lips against Janet’s to keep from screaming.

She was beginning to wonder if it might be worthwhile, one day, to shift her hips like that in the infirmary. To flash a dare with her eyes. Bite her lip, see if it drove Janet just as crazy. She smiled at the thought. She might. She just might.

*

Janet arched her back and clenched her teeth, gripping the bedframe behind her.

Sam. The strength and safety of her, the smell and the taste and Sam’s voice, tight and raw, _yes, oh, yes. Janet, oh, god_. Sam’s hand in her hair; the taste of her; her voice. _I love you, I love you, oh god, yes, Janet –_

She bit her forearm and whined and pressed inside so hard it hurt. She gasped as she came, surprised at the force and the speed of it, disoriented as she went limp across the sheets. _Sam_ – she swept an arm across the bed.

She was alone. She was alone. Shaking off her unaccountable surprise, she rose and slipped into her duty blues, rinsed her hands and ran her fingers through her hair. She was alone, reveille had sounded fifteen minutes ago, and she was going to be late.

*

Sam gripped the arm of her chair with one hand as the other worked quick and hard against her clit. Not trusting herself, she all but held her breath.

Janet. Janet and her quick hands and her hot eyes. Janet’s lips on her neck and Janet’s breath against her ear and Janet’s voice, low and almost controlled, _yes, Sam, that’s it, come for me, Sam, yes, and –_

She kicked against her desk and exhaled at last, fingers flattened fast against her so-sensitive skin as though that might silence the orgasm. She caught her ragged breath. Swung her boots down from her desk, zipped her fly, straightened her shirt.

And restored power to the closed-circuit camera. No one would notice five minutes’ outage in an officer’s laboratory early in a quiet morning. She turned her back to it and licked her fingertips with a slow smile.

*

‘Morning, Janet.’ Bright, smiling. Her eyes and her smile. Tick, tick, the usual checklist. _I love you, Sam. I want that smile every morning._

‘Morning, Sam.’ Slowly, lifting her coffee. Kind and quiet, and lacking the slow burn imagination lent her. _I want you, Janet. I want to see you burn like that for me._

‘You’re late.’ Not flirtatious, only teasing. Janet sighs.

‘I was detained. You’re awfully chipper for oh-dark-thirty.’ Detained? Sam holds on to her smile.

‘I got off to a good start. So – shall we?’ She means work.

‘Sure – show me what you got.’ She means work.

Sam squeezes her hand, just quick, friendly, just in passing. Struck, suddenly, Janet can’t help but stare. A moment ago, her hand – and now, Sam’s hand –. Well.

Janet’s smile diminishes, and Sam follows her gaze. Their joined hands, just quick, like that. And just now – was she thinking –? No, surely – no.

Friendly colleagues, on a quiet morning. That’s all.

But there’s something to the roll of Janet’s shoulders into her labcoat that seems suddenly not so casual. And when Sam smiles and bites her lip, there’s an intention in it that wasn’t there before.

Maybe. Just maybe.

*


End file.
